Page 39 of Shutout
Yes.
Actually, no. Just one. One I foolishly told that we’d be friends for freaking ever, even though I’ve been having nightly dreams about her—of the spicy variety. Of course, every time I wake up after the dreams with the desperate need for a coldshower, I can’t fall back asleep again. The lack of proper sleep is actually what has me moving slower than a sloth today.
Of course, I say nothing.
Coach Green continues talking by himself. “Family?”
My face pinches. That’s also a yes.
I went home the Saturday of Lee’s birthday, two weeks ago. I bought some fancy pads for him because I know he’s as obsessed with hockey as any other Tatum man. Dad has probably given him every piece of equipment imaginable, but I literally wouldn’t know what else I could gift to the favorite son of a millionaire.
Except, I stood outside ringing the doorbell for long enough that I figured they weren’t home. I finally let myself in and texted Dad. After an hour, he replied that he was sorry, but they’d decided to take an impromptu trip to the big city to take Lee to an NHL game.
I’d have liked to go too. The Division I season hadn’t even started yet, so I was free. Which Dad should’ve known.
So anyway, I’m constantly horny and mildly depressed. At the same time, I have mountains of coursework that I can’t chip away as fast as I wish, because I spend most of my time either at practice, or at the gym, or studying our playbook, or watching game film, or texting Liv without giving away that she’s driving me feral with need.
And yet, these are all first world problems I have no right to complain about. I’m on a full ride, I’m already drafted, my father is loaded, I don’t have any injuries…
So many guys in the team have it so much tougher. Like Dane. He’s probably the hardest working guy on the team. All the way from here, I can see him crushing the drills. And it’s all because he feels solely responsible for breaking his family out of the poverty cycle. Frankly, I was even happier when he got drafted this summer than when I did.
It makes me pissed at myself. I have everything and yet I feel like it’s not enough. I don’t even have a right to want more.
Shit, Coach’s speaking again.
“—And apparently, I shouldn’t meddle in players’ personal lives.” His expression is deadpanned, sarcastic. “But if you don’t fix whatever the hell this is, I’m going to meddle, all right. I can give that C to Warren instead because at least he really wants it.”
Sure, Kyle Warren has been moaning in the lockers about how he should’ve been the C because he’s a senior. But he cares more about himself than the team, which makes Coach’s threat terrifying.
“I’m sorry, Coach. Won’t happen again.”
“Yeah. Go make sure of that.”
“Yes, sir.”
After that, no matter how exhausted I feel, I give it my all during practice. It only amounts to two thirds of my normal performance, but if Coach isn’t staring daggers at me or pulling me aside again, it must be progress.
Freshly showered after class and in a comfy St. Cloud hoodie and joggers, I make my way through campus toward the library. I’m early for the study session with the Spanish I group, so I’m just going to catch some Zs at a nice little corner while I wait for them.
We said we’d meet on the second floor, since it’s the one the librarians don’t care to keep people quiet. I climb up the stairs slowly, although three steps at a time. Upstairs, I sweep my eyes around, trying to locate the best spot for a nap, preferably shady. But then my eyes are immediately drawn to someone.
Of course Liv would be here early.
She’s sitting at the end of a long table by a window, her full attention on the open textbook before her. Her pen is wedged between her nose and upper lip like a mustache.
“What a dork,” I say in a mumble, although I don’t stopthe smile forming on my face. It doesn’t matter that she’s right under a sunbeam, I just found my spot.
I take a step forward toward her and movement from the corner of my eye gets my attention. Some guy is headed straight for her and I hesitate. Maybe they know each other. It’s early enough that Liv could’ve scheduled another appointment. But she’d be looking out for him, right? Maybe she wouldn’t be quite as absorbed by her textbook.
I don’t know if I’m doing the right thing, but I eat up the floor with long steps and reach her table well before the other guy. Liv looks up in surprise as I drop on the seat at her right side.
“You’re here early,” I mumble to her like it’s not obvious.
From the corner of my eye, I catch the guy frowning at me but he does a U-turn. If he’d had any actual business with Liv, he wouldn’t have minded my presence, which confirms he was just coming to bother her.
“So are you.” She quirks an eyebrow at me unbeknownst to what just transpired.
I take the bottle with my after-practice protein shake out of my backpack, and set the backpack down on the table. I try fluffing it as if it was a pillow, but it doesn’t help that inside it’s full of hard notebooks, texts and a laptop. Whatever.
